Dear Public Diary ,

It is the first time in my life that I hated a movie title.

Not because it was badly chosen, but because it hurts. Every time I read The Ugly, the story comes back to me. It reminds me of the ugliness hidden inside people, the cruelty that wears normal faces, the fake standards of beauty society created to justify violence. It reminds me of how sick a society can become when it decides that someone is less worthy of dignity. And most of all, it reminds me of a truth I can no longer ignore: ugliness is never on the outside. It lives inside people.

I watched the Korean movie The Ugly, the one everyone is talking about, and it left me empty, sad, and uncomfortable with the world around me. This wasn’t a movie you finish and move on from. It stays. It follows you. Everything about it felt deeply unfair. No one did her right. Not once. I won’t spoil it, because this story is not meant to be explained. It must be felt. You need to watch it and let it hurt you the way it hurt me, because only then will it truly enter you and leave its mark.

The story follows a woman whose life is destroyed long before she understands what beauty or ugliness even mean. From childhood, she is given a label and forced to live inside it. Her life becomes a sequence of rejection, silence, and quiet suffering. Every place she goes, every relationship she touches, reminds her that society has already decided who she is. Not because of her actions. Not because of her heart. But because of a cruel idea imposed on her body.

What broke me first was her family. The people who failed her before the world ever had the chance. There is a saying that if you don’t find goodness in your family, you won’t find it anywhere else—and this movie proves how painfully true that is. Family is supposed to be where love begins, where we learn how to be human, where we feel protected when we are at our weakest. Childhood is the most vulnerable phase of life. That is when we need to be held, believed, defended.

Instead, she was named “ugly” in her own home. Treated like something less than human. Like a mistake that should apologize for existing. When the moment came where she needed protection the most, they chose to disbelieve her. They chose comfort over truth. Silence over justice. And when she ran away, no one searched for her. No one asked where she was. No one cared enough to bring her back.

How can parents be that cruel? How can siblings be so careless about their own sister? Bringing a soul into this world and then throwing it away is a crime. A real one. And no apology can erase it.

Then there is society—the true source of evil in this story. Another face of the devil. The tragedy didn’t stop when she left home; it only changed location. Everywhere she went, people looked at her the same way, as if the word “ugly” was written on her face. No one tried to be kind. No one tried to be better. Not even neutral. Everyone participated in hurting her, actively or passively.

Even women. Even mothers. Even people who should have known better.

The most painful part is that she wasn’t cruel. She tried to help others. She tried to exist quietly, without disturbing anyone. Yet even the woman she helped at work ended up hurting her more than strangers did. And the saddest truth is that this is not fiction. This is society. People are often cruel, and goodness is rare. Once someone becomes a target, others follow without asking why. Hatred becomes contagious.

Then comes the husband—the character I found truly ugly. Not just in behavior, but in soul. He wasn’t blind only in his eyes; his heart was blind too. He was supposed to be relief after pain, peace after war. Instead, he became the worst ending. The most brutal betrayal.

He cared only about what people thought. About appearances. About his image. He accused her of lying, when she didn’t. He chose her. She didn’t trap him. She didn’t deceive him. She was simply kind to him—and he chose her. What was her crime? Existing? Being human? Was she supposed to announce her “ugliness” like a warning sign?

What did he want her to do?

What makes his cruelty even harder to accept is that he knew how cruel people can be. He experienced it himself. And yet, he still chose to become part of that cruelty. That kind of evil is not ignorance. It is a choice.

The son surprised me in the worst way. I had mixed feelings about him from the beginning, but I hoped—maybe foolishly—that he would be different. Even after learning the full story, he still chose himself. He chose his father’s name, his benefits, his comfort. He chose silence. And in doing so, he failed her too. Sometimes being passive is just another form of violence.

By the end, when I finally saw her picture, one thought stayed with me: she was not ugly. She was human. And that should have been enough.

She didn’t deserve the pain she lived through. She deserved love. She deserved peace. She deserved safety. No one—and I mean no one—deserves to be treated the way she was treated. We are all human beings. We all carry wounds, fears, and hopes. If we can’t offer love, the least we owe each other is respect.

The Ugly is not just a movie. It is a mirror. And what it reflects is terrifying.

Thank you for reading. May it make us a little gentler.